Cinematic Smoak
by BuggyQ
Summary: A series of Olicity one-shots, wherein Felicity experiences some classic movie moments in her own inimitable way.
1. Chapter 1

Cinematic Smoak

Chapter 1: Roman Holiday

_A/N: Felicity Smoak is a persistent little thing, isn't she? Just won't get out of my head. So here I am, writing more about her when I really want to write other stuff. Oh, well. I've decided to let her have her way, for the time being anyway. This may become an extended series of one-shots, all based around movie prompts. They're all going to be decidedly Olicity, and in this one, I've decided I need to redeem Laurel. And open the door to fixing the giant, gaping horror that was what Oliver did to Felicity in Unthinkable. The bastard (and by that, I also mean whoever wrote that scene, because only a bastard would have had Oliver say "I love you. " No. Just...no. Good people know that would be unforgivable.). So, this is obviously set in my version of S3, after Barry Allen has become The Flash (and I presume Felicity knows about him). This first one is before (as I expect will happen) Laurel takes on the hot black leather of the Canary and before the stuff that the spoilers tell us is coming (oh, you official writers better not screw __this__ up, or I will do something bad to you with numbers). We'll see where it all leads._

_Summary: A series of Olicity one-shots, wherein Felicity experiences some classic movie moments in her own inimitable way._

_Disclaimer: The only green that is mine is the envy I feel towards those who get to write this stuff for pay. I do not._

* * *

"Excuse me, can you tell me where I am?" a familiar voice called to Laurel as she started up the steps to her apartment.

"Felicity?" Laurel said, turning to see the blonde leaning strangely against a lamppost. "Are you all right?"

"Lovely Laurel Lance!" Felicity said, her face lighting up. "Oh, thank god! I had no idea where I was. You would not believe how hard it is to read street signs when you've been drugged. Glasses just do not help."

"Drugged!?" Laurel said, grabbing hold of her arm. "What the hell happened to you?"

"Gosh, where do I start?" Felicity said, slowly leaning into Laurel to the point that she was barely upright. "I mean—" she huffed a laugh, "—one day I'm sitting in my little office, minding my own business, and the next, I'm getting chased by psychopathic sword-wielding Australians and insane drug dealers and bomb-wielding burglars and mad scientists—"

"How about you start with tonight?" Laurel said, half-carrying her up the steps toward her apartment door.

"Oh, tonight," Felicity said, waving one hand dismissively. "Tonight was the mad scientist. I got zapped again, and let me tell you, it isn't fun. You know that scene in The Hangover, where they get zapped by the cop guy in front of all those kids? It's like that, only more painful. And less funny. Not that I really thought that scene was funny. I don't really get the thing with Zach Gali-whatheverthehellhis name is—Gallifrey? No, that's Doctor—"

"Felicity, I need you to focus," Laurel said, struggling to open the security door with one hand, and nearly losing Felicity in the process. "You got tased, right? Who tased you?"

"Don't know," Felicity said, and her words were starting to slur, and she was leaning even more heavily on Laurel. "Mad scientist. But I got his picture. On my tablet." She patted her purse. "I was badass. Sara would be proud of me. Bad. Ass." She nodded emphatically and almost pitched forward onto her face before Laurel caught her and managed to stabilize her.

"Okay, so a mad scientist tased you," Laurel said, guiding Felicity towards the elevator, which, blissfully, opened immediately once she pushed the button. "And then you were badass. Is that how you got away?" She got Felicity into the elevator and leaned her against the wall, but the moment she turned to press her floor button, Felicity began to slide down the wall. "No, no, no!" Laurel said, grabbing her. "You need to stay on your feet a little longer, Felicity."

"Floor…seems better," Felicity said, and her eyelids were drooping.

"Come on, talk to me," Laurel said, putting one hand to the side of her face and looking at her. "Open your eyes, Felicity. You were badass. How? I'll tell Sara all about it."

Felicity blinked. "I was in a chair. Zip ties. But zip tie me once, shame on you. Zip tie me twice, and I start carrying a little bitty knifey thing. Ha!" She shook her head. "But he'd already made me drink…whatever…mad scientist drug thing." She looked disgusted. "In peppermint schnapps. I hate peppermint schnapps. And he thought I was a pros…prosti…" She stopped, blinking again. Slowly.

"Prostitute?" Laurel prompted, and the elevator door opened onto her floor.

"Yes!" Felicity said, incensed. "Do I look like a…what you said?"

Laurel grabbed her arm and threw it over her shoulder, then started her out the door. "Actually, you could pass for one of the higher priced ones," she said.

"You mean it?" Felicity said, sounding touched.

"Only the highest end," Laurel said, smiling lopsidedly at her.

"That's the nicest thing anybody's ever said to me," Felicity said, sounding like she might cry.

"That's a shame," Laurel said softly, breathing hard as they finally reached her apartment door. "So you cut the zip ties—"

"Yay, me!"

"Attagirl!" Laurel said, grinning. "But he'd given you something. Do you know what?"

"Mad scientist," Felicity said. "Who knows? Look at the tablet. I videoed everything. He said I'd forget, so I made sure something would remember. I hit him. In the nose. With my elbow. I definitely recommend the elbow. It doesn't hurt as much as using your fist. And it is so weird that I know these things."

Laurel somehow managed to get her into the apartment in a tangle of arms and legs, and maneuvered her over to the couch. She sprawled across the couch and closed her eyes. "Felicity, I need you to stay awake," Laurel said, grabbing for her phone. "Stay with me, okay? I'm calling Oliver."

"Oh, no!" Felicity said, her eyes shooting open. "No, no, no, no, no!" She struggled to sit up, waving her arms at Laurel. "You can't call Oliver!"

"Why not?" Laurel said, frowning.

"I'll be fine," Felicity said. "Mad scientist guy said so."

"And you believe everything a mad scientist tells you," Laurel said dryly.

"Huh? Oh. No…no, but part of what he said is very, very true. He said I'd be…that it'd make me…kind of…okay, remember how I said it was a date rape drug?"

"You never said that," Laurel said, confused.

"I didn't?" Felicity said, her forehead crinkling. "I'd have sworn…or was that on the tablet? I told the tablet. Right. So, mad scientist said it was a date rape drug he was dev…devel…making. And…he added a little something to…well, it makes you all…I mean, I feel really, really…oh, god, this is humiliating."

Laurel felt her eyebrows climbing.

"Yes, that, exactly," Felicity said, sounding both relieved and mortified. "So if you call Oliver, then he'll show up all grr and buff in those tight leather pants, and I'll say something, you know I will, 'cause I say stupid stuff even when I'm not on mad scientist sexy drugs, and whatever he gave me is really, really, really…" She trailed off, looking distressed.

"Felicity—" Laurel began.

"And even if I don't go all sexy-sexy on him, I'm scared he'll tell me I have to stop helping him," Felicity said, almost in tears. "He gets so worried, especially since Slade, and if he tells me I can't do this anymore, I don't know what I'd do. Please don't call him," she said in a very small voice.

Laurel sighed. "Okay, I won't call Oliver," she said finally. "But I need to—"

"No, no, lemme finish telling you what happened," Felicity cut in, but it was clear she was fading. "He said I'd forget everything, and if we're going to pros…pros…prostitute…" She frowned. "That isn't right."

_She has a point_, Laurel thought. But they also needed to know what was in her system. She wasn't about to risk Felicity's life just to guarantee a prosecution. "I'm calling an ambulance." She started to dial 911. "You can tell me everything while we wait for them, okay?"

"No!" Felicity said. "Oliver's my emergency contact!"

"But we don't know what he gave you!" Laurel protested.

"Yes, we do," Felicity said, and fumbled for her purse. "See?" She pulled out a small bottle. "I took it from mad scientist guy. So we have it. You can take it to somebody, right? And I can stay here. On your nice…comfy couch. This couch is really comfy. Where did you get it? Definitely not Ikea."

"Who am I going to take it to at…" Laurel glanced at her clock. "…at midnight on a Friday night?"

"Ooo! I know!" Felicity said. "Call Barry!" She reached into her purse again, rooting around for something.

"Who?"

"My phone," Felicity said, pulling it out and waving it at her. "Barry Allen. He can help, fast. Really fast. Super fast." She stopped waving it and punched in her security code.

Laurel frowned. "I don't know, Felicity."

"Jus' call him," Felicity slurred. "Even if you went to Oliver, he'd just have to call Barry. He's a…science guy. So we're just cutting out the hot, green middleman."

Laurel hesitated, then decided it was worth a shot. Barry picked up on the second ring. "Felicity? What's wrong?"

"Um, this isn't Felicity. It's Laurel Lance," she began.

"Where's Felicity? What happened?" Barry said, his voice rising.

"Just listen," Laurel said. "She got drugged, but I'm not sure what with. I have a sample here, but she doesn't want to go to the hospital, and she said you could—"

"I can. I'll be right there," Barry said. "Where are you?"

Laurel gave him her address.

"In Starling City?" he asked.

"Yes," Laurel said, blinking in surprise. "Where are you?"

"Never mind," he said. "I'll be there in…a few minutes." He hung up abruptly.

Laurel stared at the phone for a moment, then turned back to Felicity, starting the phone's video app. "Okay, Felicity, I need you to tell me what happened."

Felicity was out cold. Laurel dove forward, feeling for a pulse, and let out a sigh of relief when she found it, strong and steady.

_Now what?_ she thought. She turned to Felicity's purse, and opened it, pulled out the tablet, and found the video.

"Oh, shoot, which way's the camera?" Felicity's voice said as the picture showed what was obviously a hotel room. The picture jumped around wildly for a moment, then Felicity's face appeared. "Oh! There you are." She paused, looking a little dazed. "Right. Hi! So…um…okay, I need to do this fast, because he's going to wake up soon. So this guy—" The camera panned down to show a man lying on his back on the floor unconscious, his nose a bloody mess. "—stopped me outside of Verdant earlier tonight. He thought I was a prostitute—me, a prostitute! Do you know how much this dress cost!?—and when I told him I wasn't, he got really nervous. Next thing I knew, he'd hit me with a taser, and threw me in his car. He brought me here, wherever here is, then tied me to a chair and made me drink a shot of peppermint schnapps he'd put this into." She held up a bottle. She wrinkled her nose. "Peppermint schnapps. Gahhhhh!" She swallowed hard. "He said it was his new date rape drug, and he needed to test it, and I got lucky." She frowned. "Not like that. I meant lucky ironically, not literally. No, that would still be figurative. Euphemistically. That's what I mean. I mean, not what I mean. Ironic, not euphemistic. Anyway, I put the smackdown on him before he could…do anything more than feel me—" She swallowed hard again. "Oh, I think I'm gonna yak." She didn't say anything else for a long moment. "Ohhhhkay, I'm putting the bottle of whatever it was he used in...in my purse." She blinked several times. "Oh, this isn't good. I'm really looooopy... So…where was I? Oh, I managed to get free and did that—" she gestured at the man, "—to him. I hit him with a chair. Yes, I am that awesome. Here, get a good look at him." She turned the camera back to the guy, and left it there for a long moment, though it wobbled a lot. "That should be enough for facial…facial…"

Felicity trailed off, and the camera tilted down toward the floor. Several seconds later, the camera turned back, and Felicity's face came into view again. Her pupils were dilated so big Laurel could barely see a hint of blue. She took a deep breath. "I think…" She blinked again. "I need to go home." The video ended abruptly.

There was a sharp knock on her door, and Laurel jumped. She went and looked through the peephole, and saw a young man with light brown hair which looked really windblown. "Who is it?" she called.

"Barry Allen," he said.

She opened the door, and he burst through. "Where is she?"

Laurel pointed to the living room, and he ran in and knelt next to Felicity, who stirred slightly when he touched her hair, but then subsided back into sleep.

"Here's what she was given," Laurel said, holding out the bottle to him. "And she recorded this." She showed him the video, and he looked angry.

"Where is this guy?" he growled.

"I don't know. I don't think the hotel could be far from here. I found Felicity out in front of my apartment, and she couldn't have walked far in that state," Laurel said.

Barry looked for a moment like he was about to run out, and Laurel grabbed his arm. "Look, getting the guy has to wait. We need to know what he gave her."

Barry sighed, then nodded. "Okay, look, I can figure that part out, but we need to go after that guy. We can't just let him get away." He frowned at her. "Wait, why did you call me? She works with the Arrow!"

Laurel grimaced. "Felicity didn't want me to call him," she said. "Long story."

"Well, call him now," Barry said harshly. "I don't care what she said. Tell him I'll be in touch once I know what we're dealing with." He stood up and started for the door. "This won't take me very long."

Laurel reached for her phone, and when she turned back, he was already gone. She went over to check on Felicity, then dialed Oliver's number, hoping that neither of them would be as angry with her as she expected them to be.

That was too much to hope for, at least as far as Oliver was concerned. "Why the hell didn't you call me sooner?" he exploded when she let him in ten minutes later. "How is she?"

"She seems okay," Laurel said. "She's been asleep since Barry got here." She pulled up the video on the tablet again. "He wanted you to go after the guy who did this to her."

"I'm not going anywhere till I know she's safe," Oliver said. "Wait-Barry? You called Barry Allen before you called me!?" he snapped, kneeling next to Felicity. He reached out and brushed a lock of hair away from her face, and her eyes fluttered open.

"Oliver?" she murmured. "Wha' happened?" She frowned. "Why'm I so woozy? Oh, wow. I don't know how I got here. " She looked around vaguely. "I don't even know where here is. This is just like Roman Holiday. Only I don't feel so happy. And you're better looking than Gregory Peck. Actually, Eddie Albert was better looking than Gregory Peck. He was so adorable with that beard. Who knew a goatee would make such a difference? I mean, Eddie Albert. If a goatee can make him cute…" She stopped, studying Oliver's face intently. "I wonder how you'd look with a goatee. Oh, my god, I bet you'd be unbeliev—"

"Felicity!" Laurel cut in, trying to spare her any more embarrassment. "Can I get you something? How about some coffee?"

"I don't think that's a good idea," Oliver said. "We don't know what she's had."

"What do you mean what I've had?" Felicity said. She wrinkled her nose. "Why does my mouth taste so awful?" Her eyes widened. "Did you get me drunk? On _peppermint schnapps_?!"

"No," Laurel said quickly. "No, it wasn't Oliver's fault—"

Felicity's eyes widened even farther as she looked over at Laurel. "But you're in AA! Please don't tell me I made you fall off the wagon!"

"It's okay, Felicity," Laurel said, smiling. "Nobody got drunk tonight."

Felicity looked unconvinced. "My mouth tastes like peppermint schnapps. I'd know that taste anywhere." She blinked. "Wow. I'm really drunk." She looked intently at Oliver again. "You have such pretty eyes." Her eyes flickered down to his lips, and Laurel grabbed Oliver and pulled him away.

"What the—Laurel, what are you doing?" Oliver protested, regaining his balance.

"You really need to go find the mad scientist, right now," Laurel said.

"I'm not leaving her," Oliver said stubbornly.

"I'm not asking," Laurel said, keeping her voice low. "I'm telling you. She made that recording so you could get him. You owe her that. I'll take care of her. I promise."

"Laurel," he began, but she cut him off.

"No, Oliver, I mean it," she said. "I can't let you stay here. She's not in control of her actions right now, and you being here is a very bad idea."

Oliver frowned, then looked like the light had dawned. "Oh," he said, and his eyes got very wide. "You mean—"

"Yes," Laurel whispered. "She'd be mortified if she…did anything. I'm not going to let that happen. She's been hurt enough."

Oliver's face darkened. "What's that supposed to mean?" he growled.

"What's with the grr face?" Felicity said. "And why are you over there? You should be over here. Come over here, sexy pants."

"Get the hell out of here," Laurel whispered to Oliver, handing him the tablet, then turned to stop Felicity from getting up.

"I did not mean you, Lovely Laurel Lance," Felicity said, glaring at her. "You are sexy, and you have pants. But you are not sexy pants." She blinked. "I didn't mean I find you sexy. I just meant, empirically, you are sexy in that you are clearly attractive to lots and lots of—"

"Please stop talking," Laurel said, blushing deeply. "Oliver, go find the guy on that video. He's got to be in a hotel near here."

"I...okay," Oliver said, glancing down at the tablet. "I'll, uh, come back later."

"Much later, " Laurel said insistently.

"But you just got here!" Felicity said plaintively. "I want sexy pants!"

"Ollie!" Laurel hissed, and Oliver beat a hasty retreat.

Felicity was glaring at her even more. "You made him leave. Why?"

"Go back to sleep, Felicity," Laurel said.

"You can't bogart all the sexy pants," Felicity said irritably. "I mean, seriously, I am not getting any, and you have had way more than your share!"

"You're absolutely right," Laurel said, patting her shoulder. "I promise, Oliver will be back very soon, and I won't get in your way, okay?"

Felicity's eyes narrowed. "You promise?"

"I swear," Laurel said. "You deserve to get sexy pants."

"I do," Felicity said emphatically. "I do deserve to get sexy pants." She leaned her head back onto the couch. "So why can't I?"

"I wish I knew," Laurel said. "And I really wish I could help." _I really need to have a long, serious talk with Oliver Queen_, she thought.

"You're nicer than I thought," Felicity said seriously. "I really thought I wouldn't like you. I tried not to, but you're so nice."

"Thank you," Laurel said, smiling. "I like you, too."

"I'm really drunk," Felicity said, "but I mean it. That's not just icky peppermint schnapps talking."

"I believe you," Laurel said. "Now, I think you need to get some sleep."

"I don't want to miss any sexy pants time," Felicity said.

"You won't. I'll wake you up as soon as Oliver gets back, okay?"

"'Kay," Felicity murmured. "You're the best."

"I wouldn't say that. You risked your life to save me and Starling City," Laurel said. "I think that makes you the best."

Felicity smiled faintly as her eyes slid shut again. "We're both awesome."


	2. Chapter 2

Cinematic Smoak

Chapter 2: The Graduate

_A/N: Wow. This one really got away from me. So it starts all sweetness and light, and then…left turn into Angstopia. Sorry about the whiplash. I'm really enjoying writing Laurel right now. Who'da thunk it?_

_Also, the first reviewer to catch the extremely subtle free-for-nothing bonus movie reference gets a cookie.*_

_*Cookie meaning the virtual cookie-shaped warmth and love that will blossom from my heart. No real cookies will exchange hands. Fanfiction dot net is not responsible for fulfilling any cookie expectations._

_Disclaimer: If I owned Arrow, there'd be a whole lot less boring island flashbacks and a whole lot more Felicity, and Laurel never would have become a cranky, vindictive addict. So obviously, not mine._

* * *

"Mr. Robinson, are you trying to seduce me?" Felicity said, smirking.

Mr. Robinson's face fell.

_Uh, oh_. "Joking—that was a joke! See, like the movie?" He looked blank. "The Graduate?" Felicity continued. "Dustin Hoffman? I didn't mean you were really—I mean, this is a business meeting. Obviously, you weren't trying to—"

It was only getting worse. Now Mr. Robinson looked like he was on the verge of tears. "I should have known a woman like you wouldn't…wouldn't be…"

"Oh…" Felicity said, her stomach sinking. "You mean you were?"

"I'm terribly sorry," Mr. Robinson said, and his composure was crumbling before her eyes.

"Oh, please, don't apologize," Felicity said quickly. "I'm flattered. Really! Very, very flattered. And more than a bit surprised."

"I'm just no good at this," Mr. Robinson muttered, planting his elbows on his desk and putting his head in his hands. "It's no wonder Maria left me."

_Oh, __no_. "It's not that you're not good at it," Felicity protested. "Under other circumstances, I'd be…I mean, you're…" She faltered. She suddenly understood what Oliver must feel like when he had to lie. Mr. Robinson was sporting what had to be the worst comb-over in history—not just a comb-over, but a canary-yellow comb-over. A canary-yellow comb-over toupee. Like someone did it on purpose.

Mr. Robinson groaned. "Don't try to make me feel better," he muttered. "I know there's no way someone as beautiful as you could possibly be interested in me."

"That's so sweet!" Felicity burst out. "But, it's not—it's not that I'm not interested. I mean, I'm not. At all. Not even remotely." His eyes started to tear up again. "Oh, god, I'm sorry. I didn't mean…" She sighed in frustration. "I only meant, it's not you. I'm sure you're a very attractive man to…to women who are not me." _Not working_, she thought. "Lots of women," she said, trying to sound sincere. "A whole world of women out there who are not…me…" She hesitated, and he looked even more devastated. "You just hit me at the wrong moment. I'm not interested in anybody right now. I mean, I am, but just one person."

Mr. Robinson's eyes got wide. "You mean…Queen?" he said.

Felicity winced. "No. No! Not at all," she lied. "Honestly, how cliché do you think I am? Don't answer that. No, I am not now, nor have I ever been sleeping with my boss. Not even in fantasyland."

Mr. Robinson looked skeptical.

"I'm not," Felicity said insistently. "He's sooooo not my type." _And my pants have now gone from "on fire" to "full-on surface-of-the-sun-type flames."_

"You don't have to lie to spare my feelings," Mr. Robinson said disconsolately.

"I'm not lying," Felicity said. "I have someone I'm interested in. It's just…complicated. Really complicated."

Mr. Robinson frowned, and then suddenly his expression changed. "Oh! OH!" he said. "Oh, gosh, now I'm really embarrassed. Look, I'm really sorry. I had no idea. I mean, you really don't seem the type—not that there's a type, or that I'd know what the type was if there was one, I'm sure there's a whole spectrum of types, I mean, that's kind of the rainbow thing, isn't it? And it's not like I have a lot of experience with…and I really need to shut up, don't I?"

"It's okay," Felicity said, smiling at him, though she had no idea what he was talking about. "I know the feeling. Soooooo…are you still interested in investing in the new project?"

It took another twenty minutes of extremely awkward conversation before Felicity was able to get a commitment from Mr. Robinson to at least look over the prospectus she'd brought with her.

_And that is the very last time I agree to sub for Oliver in anything_, Felicity thought to herself, making her way out of the NovoBank building. _He owes me. Like mint chocolate chip ice cream and Oreos for life owes me._

"How did it go?" Oliver said, coming into the lair a few hours later. "With Robinson, I mean?"

Felicity swung her chair around to study Oliver like an insect. Those few hours had given her plenty of time to build up a head of steam over her day.

"Uh-oh," Digg said, stopping cold at the foot of the stairs.

"What?" Laurel asked, coming up behind him. Then she saw Felicity. "Ohhhh," she said.

"When we got Queen Consolidated back," Felicity said coolly, "I said I would be happy to come back to help you, because that's what friends do, isn't it?"

"Yes," Oliver said tentatively. "And I'm very, very grateful—"

"But here's what friends don't do," Felicity said, and the temperature in the room dropped twenty degrees.

"Abort," Digg whispered from behind Oliver. "Abort, now, for god's sake!"

"Friends don't make friends cover investor meetings four times in the same week, do they, Digg?"

"No, ma'am, they do not," Digg said promptly.

"Friends don't make friends lie for them, do they, Roy?"

"Well…" Roy said, glancing uncertainly at Oliver. "Someti—"

"Do they?" Felicity said, her tone menacing.

"No, ma'am, they do not," Roy said.

"Good answer, Riding Hood. And friends definitely don't send friends to lie to investors who've just had their wives leave them for other men without at least giving them a heads up, do they, Laurel?"

"Oh, Ollie, you didn't," Laurel groaned, edging back up the staircase.

"No, they don't," Oliver said, raising his hands in conciliation. "I'm really sorry, Felicity. I just thought—I mean, he's been pretty resistant to the idea of investing up till now, and it seemed like he might be more receptive if you—"

"Ohhhhhh, man," Digg groaned.

"You did this on purpose?" Felicity said, the fury on her face reaching epic proportions. "You sent me into that meeting deliberately?"

Oliver winced. "No! I really did need to miss the meeting. We had to get the tracker into that shipment before it left the docks. I just thought it might work out better if it was…" he said, his voice getting quieter with every syllable.

"You, sir, are very, very lucky," Felicity said.

Digg swallowed. He'd thought Felicity's loud voice was frightening, but the quiet intensity she was using now was far, far worse.

"First," Felicity was saying, "that QC needs Robinson so very badly right now. Second, that once you get past the massive rebound complex, the fragile ego and the ridiculously bad yellow non-hair, he's actually a very sweet guy. And third, that I know that what you were working on today was really important."

"Thank you," Oliver said, walking closer to her. "I mean it. I'll make it up to you, I pro—"

"You bet your spectacular ass you'll make it up to me," Felicity said, standing up and poking him in the chest. "Your sole purpose for the next decade is to give me pleasure."

Laurel choked back a laugh, but Roy wasn't able to stop his in time.

"You know what I meant, you cretin," Felicity said, glaring at him. "And don't forget, I can crush you like a bug with my brain!"

"Yes, ma'am," Roy said.

"You can start right now," Felicity said to Oliver. "I have selected three stunningly beautiful dresses, with matching shoes, which I'm putting on my expense account. You will approve them."

Oliver nodded.

"Tomorrow night, I will be at your first post-Slade-calypse party in one of those stunningly beautiful dresses, and I will be enjoying myself as I attract the attention of many, many handsome men," Felicity continued. "You will remain at said party for the duration, mingling and making sure every single guest is happy. Especially me. You will not, under any circumstances, abandon that party, leaving me to cover for you. Is that understood?"

Oliver nodded again.

"I mean it," Felicity said. "I don't care if aliens land and start deep-fat frying the board of directors. I don't care if the moon suddenly bursts out of its orbit and plunges off into deep space. I don't even care if they bring Firefly back. You will not leave that party. Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal," Oliver said meekly.

"Good," Felicity said, and turned back to her computer.

Oliver edged back toward the stairs. "How long do you think she'll—?" he said under his breath.

"Don't ask," Laurel said.

* * *

The next evening, Oliver was waiting in the entryway of the mansion, greeting guests as they came in. He'd just finished shaking hands with the new D.A. when he saw one of the waiters look over at the door, his eyes wide.

Oliver turned, and nearly dropped his champagne. Felicity was standing in the doorway, smiling at Digg, and Oliver was glad he had a moment to take it in before she turned to look at him. She was wearing what he would have happily described as a stunningly beautiful dress. It was floor-length, in a deep burgundy color in velvet and something gauzy, with one shoulder bare. The gauzy parts were in all the right places, and Oliver knew he was staring, knew that everyone around him was going to notice any second, and he couldn't seem to stop it.

"Close your mouth, Oliver," Laurel said, coming up next to him. "You look like a fish."

Oliver wrenched his eyes off Felicity and turned to look at Laurel, who was smiling indulgently at him.

"Think fast," she murmured. "Here she comes."

"Felicity," Oliver said, turning to look at her, keeping his eyes carefully locked on hers and smiling warmly. "You look spectacular." _But I miss the glasses_, he thought to himself.

"Thank you," Felicity said coolly. "I'm sorry I'm late. I had trouble with the strap on this shoe. It just doesn't want to stay on. I must have fussed with it for fifteen minutes. I mean, it's a little hard to fix wearing this," she gestured at her dress. "Not exactly conducive to bending over."

"I can imagine," Oliver said, hoping against hope that it didn't sound like he was busy imagining it.

Felicity ignored him. "I actually had to take the dress off to fix it."

The imagining kicked into overdrive.

"Hi, Laurel!" Felicity said. "How's the party going?"

"Very well," Laurel said. "I wasn't sure how things would be, given…well…" she trailed off uncertainly, and Oliver realized what she meant. He hadn't thought about this being the first party since that disastrous one he'd thrown after his mother had been acquitted. He winced at the thought, and then felt Felicity's hand on his arm.

He glanced at her, and she smiled. "I'm still mad at you," she said quietly. "But I'm here. Okay?"

"Thank you," he said. "Go enjoy the party. Attract the attention of lots of handsome men."

"Oh, she will," Laurel said, taking Felicity by the arm and leading her into the ballroom. "Where on earth did you find that dress?"

"Isn't it amazing?" Felicity said, beaming. "I actually have it in green, too, but…well…"

"Tonight, the burgundy is perfect," Laurel said, smiling knowingly. "And you have to tell me how you get your hair to do that. I've never been able to pull off the asymmetrical look like that." She shifted to get a better look at it. "How long did it take you to get it to curl like—?"

"Miss Smoak!" a man said from behind her, and Laurel saw the color drain from Felicity's face.

"Mr. Robinson," Felicity said, forcing a smile. "How lovely to see you again." Laurel turned and had to force herself not to stare. Now she understood Felicity's comment about his non-hair. _Where on earth did he get a toupee that bad?_ "Laurel, this is Henry Robinson, from NovoBank. Mr. Robinson, Laurel Lance."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Laurel said, smiling as she shook his hand.

Robinson nodded absently, giving her an odd look. He turned back to Felicity. "So…is this the…uh…the complicated…?" he trailed off, looking uncertainly between the two of them.

Felicity looked blankly at him for a moment, and then her eyes went wide.

Laurel looked back and forth between them. "Did I miss something?"

"I'm sorry," Robinson said in a rush. "I've put my foot in it again."

"No, it's all right," Felicity said. "Uh…Laurel, would you mind…?"

"Not at all," Laurel said, grateful for the chance to escape before she got caught staring at that bizarre non-hair.

"I must say, you have excellent taste," Robinson said, watching as Laurel made her way over to the buffet.

"Oh, no, we're not—she's not my—" Felicity said, flustered.

"But I thought—the way she was looking at—" Robinson said, glancing back at Laurel, who was smiling at one of the wait staff.

"She doesn't know any of it," Felicity said desperately. "Please, you can't say anything."

"Of course!" Robinson said. "God, I'm sorry—I didn't realize. I just thought that you and she—I mean, you look really good together. Really good."

Felicity flushed crimson.

"You should tell her," Robinson said. "I mean, I know it's none of my business, but you seem like such a nice girl, and you deserve to have some happiness. Life's too short, isn't it? Carpe diem and all that!"

"You're right," Felicity said, forcing another smile. "You're absolutely right. I need to go talk to her."

She started over to the buffet, glancing back over her shoulder at him as she went. He gave her a thumbs up, smiling encouragingly.

"Is everything all right?" Laurel said as she came up.

"Come on," Felicity said, grabbing Laurel's arm and dragging her out of the ballroom.

"Felicity? What's going on?" Oliver said as they came out.

"Nothing," Felicity said. "I just need a word with Laurel. Um…" She looked around uncertainly.

"Library," Laurel said, and led the way past Oliver, who looked after them for far longer than he should have. And at an entirely inappropriate part of Felicity's anatomy.

"Okay, spill," Laurel said as she closed the door to the library.

Felicity burst out laughing. It took several minutes for her to calm down enough to get the story out, and another several minutes for Laurel to stop laughing.

"You know exactly what he's going to be fantasizing about for the next month," Laurel said, and almost started giggling again.

"Me and my hot girlfriend," Felicity said, grinning. "Gettin' it on, with a Barry White voiceover!"

Laurel grinned back, and then got a calculating look in her eye.

"Uh, oh," Felicity said, suddenly nervous.

"Carpe diem," Laurel said cryptically. "Come on." She headed for the door, opened it, and poked her head out.

"Laurel, what are you doing?" Felicity said, coming up next to her.

The hallway was clear, and Oliver was talking to a guy in the entry way. He gestured the guy into the ballroom, and started after him. Laurel threw the library door open so it banged against the wall, and Oliver turned to look questioningly at her.

Laurel turned, quickly pulled Felicity out into the hallway, and then grabbed her face with both hands and kissed her. Hard.

Felicity's eyes went wide, and she didn't move for a long moment.

"What the—?" Felicity heard Digg say. _My sentiments exactly_, Felicity thought, and then realized she really ought to be doing something. _But what, exactly?_

Laurel suddenly released her, turned and walked past Oliver. "You snooze, you lose, Queen," she murmured as she passed him. She stopped by the mirror in the entryway, wiped a little hot pink lipstick off her lips with one finger, then turned and went past the wide-eyed Digg into the ballroom.

Oliver looked back at Felicity, who was still standing by the library door, shell-shocked. "What was that?" he said.

Felicity took a deep breath. "I think…that was me and my hot girlfriend, gettin' it on," she said weakly. "Did you hear any Barry White?"

Oliver's face went an interesting shade of red.

"Joking!" Felicity said. "Laurel was just…it was a joke." She threw her hands out in an odd half-shrug. "Ha, ha!"

"Funny," Oliver said, his voice sounding constricted.

"I really need to spend more time here," Felicity said. "It seems to be the only place I get any action." She blushed, realizing how that sounded, and then realizing for once that it wasn't accidental innuendo, it was real. "I mean…there was the other party, and Barry was here, remember? Barry Allen, I mean. Not Barry White. And then there was…" She stopped herself cold to keep herself from going someplace very, very bad, and then realized that Oliver still hadn't moved. "I think we…uh…should…" She gestured toward the ballroom with her head.

"Right," Oliver said, still not moving.

"The party, Oliver. You promised," Felicity said, finally able to make her feet move. She started down the hall, but Oliver took hold of her arm before she could pass him.

"I don't take you for granted," he said, looking down at her, his blue eyes intense.

"Okay," Felicity said, looking a little confused.

"I mean it."

"Okay," Felicity repeated.

He stared at her for a long moment, then released her, turned, and walked back into the ballroom.

Felicity stood in the hallway for a moment. "Well, that was unexpected," she said, dazed.

"You're telling me," Digg said, shaking his head in wonder. "Damn, girl. You…and Laurel…"

"Yeah. Weird. I know."

"Weird is not the first word that springs to mind," Digg said. "I will not be telling anyone about this. Least of all my wife."

Oliver slammed the door behind him as the last guest drove away. He'd managed to make it through the evening without making an idiot of himself, but it had taken every bit of self-control he had not to grab Laurel and shake her till she told him what she was up to.

"Now you know how it feels," Laurel said.

He looked up at her. She was sitting on the stairs, looking at him sadly. There'd been no rancor in her voice, either, and it surprised him. And then he realized what she'd said.

"What do you mean?"

She raised an eyebrow.

Oliver gritted his teeth. "Look, Laurel, I'm not in the mood for games, especially when it comes to Felicity."

"Good, because I'm not playing any," Laurel said evenly.

"Then what the hell was that kiss?" Oliver exploded.

Laurel sighed. "Okay, I'll admit, that started as a game. But consider it more of a wake-up call," she said. "You didn't like it, did you?"

"I don't like the idea of you embarrassing Felicity like that," Oliver said, biting down hard on his temper.

"Oh, right," Laurel said, and she had that predatory look he'd seen in her eyes when she was prosecuting. "I forgot—you're oh, so protective of Felicity's feelings, aren't you?"

Oliver felt his temper suddenly go ice cold. "What are you talking about?" he said, though he already knew.

"Look at where you're standing," Laurel said, getting up and coming down the stairs towards him. "Did you know I saw it all? Slade already had me, and he made me watch you. And her."

Oliver's lips tightened.

"She won't talk about it, you know," Laurel said. "I tried, but she just won't do it. The most I got out of her was, 'We did what we had to do to save the city.'" She shook her head. "'We.' Like you gave her a choice."

"Don't," Oliver said.

"She deserved better from you, Oliver," Laurel said, coming around the table in the center of the entryway to stand in front of him, deliberately placing herself right where Felicity had stood that night. "She still does."

"I had to do it," Oliver said. "It was the only way to—"

"You didn't have to say, 'I love you,'" Laurel said, her voice like ice.

"Yes, I did," Oliver whispered.

Laurel frowned.

Oliver took a step back, blinking hard. "I thought…I just couldn't risk never…"

Laurel followed him, her anger flaring even more. "You selfish bastard!" she hissed. "You told her that, and you meant it, but then you took it all back!? She thinks it was all an act! For you, anyway!"

"I know," Oliver said. "But I had to. I can't be with—"

"Don't you dare say it," Laurel said. "You've been running away from relationships for too long. That's what got us into this mess, isn't it? If you hadn't run away from me, Slade wouldn't have happened, would he? And how many people would still be alive?"

"I know," Oliver said, his jaw rigid. "It's all my fault. But that's why I can't—"

Laurel slapped him. "Grow up!" she snapped as he staggered back, raising one hand to his cheek. "God, Oliver, if the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over, expecting different results, your picture is right next to it!" She clenched her hand in a fist. "Do something different this time! Stop and think for one second about what she wants! Jesus! Think it through! You're punishing yourself, sure, but you're also punishing her!"

"I'm not doing this to punish myself—" he began hotly.

"Then what? You're trying to protect her from the evil, toxic Oliver?" Laurel barreled on, her tone dripping with derision. "Ollie, I know addiction, and you are addicted to hurting yourself. But you're going to destroy her in the process! You can't protect her, Oliver. Not from this. She won't stay away. You know she won't. So why not give her what happiness you can?"

Oliver looked at her for a long moment, then shook his head. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because I like her," Laurel said. "Because, god help me, I love you. Because Sara asked me to look after both of you. Because I believe in happy endings in spite of the mountains of evidence I have to the contrary. Because after everything we have all been through, I want it all to have been worth it." She sighed, suddenly deflated. "God, Ollie, can't we be just a little bit happy?"

Oliver rubbed one hand through his hair. "I don't know, Laurel. I'm not very good at it."

"Neither am I. But that's what Felicity's for," Laurel said. "She has a gift that way."

"You noticed that, did you?"

Laurel smiled. She sighed again. "I'm sorry I hit you."

"I deser—"

"Don't start," Laurel said. "Or I'll have to do it again, and we'll just get stuck in this vicious circle."

Oliver huffed a laugh. "Fair enough." He stepped forward and pulled her into a hug. "I'm sorry," he said.

"I'm not the one who needs to hear it," she said. But standing there, holding him, she felt a little knot of…something…release inside her. _And maybe there's hope for both of us_, she thought. After a long moment, she pulled back. "I should go. It was a really good party, Ollie."

"Memorable," he said dryly, and she laughed. He saw her to the door, and watched her go, wondering what the hell he was supposed to do now.

_Sleep_, he thought, and headed upstairs, hoping everything would make more sense in the morning.

He didn't notice Felicity slip out from the restroom opposite the ballroom door a few minutes later, her shoes held in one hand, and carefully open the front door. She paused on the threshold, looking up the stairs wistfully, then went out, shutting the door silently behind her.


	3. Chapter 3

Cinematic Smoak

Chapter 3: Aliens

_A/N: Sorry for the slow posting. One semester off, and I forget what a pain grading homework is. I hope those kids know what I'm going through on their behalf. Anyway, in case you hadn't figured it out, this series is my cop-out: I just didn't want to go to the effort of putting together well-constructed plotlines. So starting _in medias res_ is the order of the day. These are the GPVs (good-parts versions) of what would be my full episodes if I had the time and energy to put into it._

_Disclaimer: I'm feeling a bit proprietary towards my version of Laurel, but don't worry, powers that be. I'm not that grabby. They're still all yours._

* * *

Laurel lay on her back, panting, as Madison approached, her dark hair half-covering her face, a predatory smile on her face. _Oliver was right_, she thought._ I wasn't ready. And now I'm going to pay for it._

"Look at you," Madison said. "So much for the Canary. I really expected more from you. I mean, Sara's older sist—"

The warehouse door banged open. "Get away from her!"

Laurel groaned, fully expecting Felicity to add "you bitch!" like Ellen Ripley, but she didn't, and she hadn't even sounded angry. Just scared. Laurel turned her head toward the door.

Madison looked amused as Felicity walked into the warehouse and stood there looking small and fragile in lime green yoga pants and an orange tank top. But her expression was anything but fragile.

"Really?" Madison said. "No exoskeleton? No flamethrower? Not even a gun?"

"What makes you think I need one?" Felicity said, and Laurel blinked in surprise. Felicity's voice was soft, almost gentle, and for an instant, Laurel saw a flicker of doubt in Madison's eyes. "Besides, aren't you just a bit cliché? I mean, the black-leather-hot-ninja-chick thing has sort of been done to death, hasn't it?"

"You'll have to wait your turn," Madison said, a hint of annoyance in her tone. "I need to finish the Canary first. But thanks for coming. You'll be my bonus gift to Sara."

"You don't have much time," Felicity said sadly. "But you can still get out. I'm giving you a chance. Run. Leave Starling City."

"Or what?" Madison said, taking a step towards Felicity. "You do realize I was trained by the League of Assassins, right?"

Laurel struggled to her feet, wincing.

"You washed out of the League," Felicity said, and there was a sharper edge to her tone this time. "And they don't appreciate you taking that name in vain."

Madison stopped, looking uneasy. "You're not part of the League. They'd have killed me right away, not talked me to death."

"You're right," Felicity said. "I'm only a messenger. And I believe in second chances." She stared steadily at Madison. "You're running out of time."

"So are you," Madison said. She glanced over at Laurel. "Wait right there, sweetheart. You know what they say—life's too short. Have dessert first."

"You don't have to do this," Felicity said, but she wasn't talking to Madison. She'd lifted her head, talking to someone far above.

Madison whirled, looking up and around wildly, her dark eyes wide.

Felicity was looking at Laurel, gesturing significantly with her head towards the door.

_Oh, my god_, Laurel thought, her heart sinking. _She's bluffing._ Laurel started edging her way towards Felicity, but her leg wasn't making it easy. With every step, her knee threatened to buckle, and the pain in her ribs was even worse.

There was a faint sound from somewhere above them, and Laurel glanced up to see a dark figure in the shadowed catwalks.

"I'm not asking you to let her go," Felicity said, sidling towards Laurel. "I know that's too much to ask. Just don't kill her. At least not in front of me."

Madison glanced back at her. "I'm not through with you," she growled, and then took off running.

"Oh, thank god," Felicity breathed, then scampered over to put her arm around Laurel. "Come on. Let's get you out of here."

"How did you get the League to help?" Laurel said, trying not to wince as Felicity squeezed her a little too hard.

"I didn't. Homeless guy. It's amazing what you can get with twenty bucks," Felicity said, guiding them toward the warehouse door. "I wonder if Oliver will reimburse me."

Laurel stopped cold, and Felicity turned to look questioningly at her.

"You came after me with a homeless guy as backup?" Laurel said, aghast.

"Hey, there but for the grace of god, missy!" Felicity said. "He was very nice. When I explained what was going on, he offered to do it for free! "

"I didn't mean—"

"I know what you meant," Felicity said. "I have Oliver and Digg as backup. The homeless guy was just a delaying tactic." She waved at the rooftops. "The Arrow is after Madison as we speak. "

"Oh, god," Laurel moaned, starting towards the door again. "Ollie's going to kill me."

"Yes," Felicity said. "He will. He was very, very unhappy with you for going after Madison on your own. Yelling was involved. And breaking things. Things which you are going to help me fix later." She helped Laurel through the door and then steered her towards her Mini, which was parked in the alley. "Here's the thing, though," she added as she opened the passenger door for Laurel. "Digg and I weren't all that happy with you, either. As for Roy. . .well, after Oliver yelled at him for ten minutes straight for losing you, I think you're going to need to do a little more than buy him a beer."

Laurel lowered herself carefully into the seat, expecting Felicity to shut the door, but she leaned over Laurel.

"Don't you ever do that again," Felicity said, all seriousness.

"I won't," Laurel said.

"I mean it," Felicity said. "You really scared me, Laurel. When I came in there and saw you on the ground—" She huffed a frightened breath.

"I'm sorry," Laurel said miserably.

"Yes, you are," Felicity said sharply, and closed the door. She trotted around and got in, putting on her seatbelt. "I have to admit, it's a tiny bit hypocritical of me to give you a hard time like this. I might have done something similar once. Though in my defense, I didn't deliberately set out to attack the Count, ditching my backup in the process. I was just naïve, not willfully stupid." She started down the alley. "So how bad is it?"

"I don't think I ever realized just how much bruised ribs hurt," Laurel said, feeling every bump in the road.

Felicity sighed. "See, right there is your first clue that you weren't ready for this. The correct answer, unless you're coughing up blood, in which case, I swear, if you don't direct me to the nearest hospital, I'll kill you with electronic equipment, but if you're not, then the right answer is, 'I'm fine.' Variations on the theme: 'It's nothing.' 'I've had worse.' Or, the old standby, 'Just a flesh wound.'"

"I'm not bleeding," Laurel said. "Just…bruised."

"Okay," Felicity said, sounding relieved. "I'm kidding about the right answer. I'd really prefer you being honest with me. It drives me crazy when Oliver's lying on the gurney, claiming he's fine when—well, yes, he's fine in a certain sense of the word. More than fine. Like, 'oh, that boy is fiiiiiiiinnnnnee." She stopped, and for a moment Laurel was worried she was going to close her eyes while driving. "3. . .2. . .1. . ."

"He is," Laurel said. "And you don't have to feel weird saying it in front of me. I know how you feel about him."

Felicity winced. "No," she said, her voice clipped. "Don't. Don't do that."

"I'm sor—" Laurel began, but Felicity raised her hand to stop her.

"Look, I know you think you're helping," Felicity said. "But really. . .this. . .this is not helping." She sighed. "I can't. He's not. . .look, the last thing I want is for this," she gestured back and forth between them wildly, "all of this, to change. I never thought I'd say it, but I'm a freaking superhero. Okay, the superhero sidekick, but I get to fight crime. And I'm good at it. The things I can do with electrons, let me tell you. I'm not being egotistical. I'm just good at it. This is the first time in my life where I feel like all of my skills are really being utilized. And they're being utilized doing something that I can actually see making a difference, making the world better."

"But you can have all that and—"

"Let me finish," Felicity said sharply. "Look, I know what you said to Oliver. After the party."

Laurel's breath caught, and she winced at the pain in her ribs.

"I was in the bathroom. I wasn't intentionally eavesdropping. My stupid shoe strap got all screwed up again, and I couldn't get it fixed, and—" Felicity stopped and took a breath. "I heard most of what you said. And I appreciate it. I know you mean well, but—I need you to stop."

"He loves you, Felicity," Laurel said quietly.

"Don't you think I know that?" Felicity snapped. "God, Laurel, how stupid do you think I am?"

Laurel recoiled, shocked at Felicity's anger.

"I know, okay? I knew the minute he said it that he meant it, but it doesn't matter! I also know why he took it back. And there's a very good reason I let him." She sighed. "Let's say, for the sake of argument, that you browbeat him into admitting it to me. Then what? You think we just suddenly take a left turn into Disneyland and live happily ever after in Cinderella's castle?"

"No, not. . ." Laurel hesitated. "Okay, maybe I was hoping for something like that."

"This is the real world, Laurel, in spite of the fact that we're superheroes fighting crime in a city that's nearly been destroyed twice by two separate evil villains. Which is pretty ridiculous when you think about it. Honestly, if next year ends with another near-apocalypse, I'm moving to Hoboken," Felicity said. She sighed again. "The thing is, Oliver's life is. . .complicated. He's complicated. The very last thing I want to be is something that makes everything more complicated. He has to figure this out for himself, or I'll end up like every other girl he's chewed up and spit out—figuratively! I meant that figuratively! And I was not referring to you, even though it really sounded like it, I was just talking about other women, like Helena and Isabel—not that he's been with that many other women—I mean, he has been with, well, a lot—"

"It's okay, Felicity," Laurel said. "I know what you meant. And I think I understand."

"Do you?" Felicity said. "Because this is really important to me. I love being a part of this, and as much as I. . ." She faltered, her hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. "As much as I have. . .feelings. . .I couldn't stand it if those feelings took all of this away from me." She smiled lopsidedly. "I want to have my beefcake and eat it, too—and that sounded much less suggestive in my head. Not that I really thought about how it sounded, because really, if I ever thought about how things sounded before I said them, I'd never speak again."

Laurel bit back a laugh, knowing it would hurt. She smiled at Felicity. "He doesn't deserve you."

"Yes, he does," Felicity said, then frowned. "That sounded egotistical again. I just meant that I'm not all that. And he's pretty special. He should at least be with somebody who isn't a psychopath bent on revenge or hung up on an ex-girlfriend or—" She stopped herself, pursing her lips.

"Or trying to make him into something he isn't, " Laurel said dryly. "You're right. He does deserve that. "

Felicity smiled sadly. "That's exactly why I can't screw this up."


	4. Chapter 4

Cinematic Smoak

Chapter 4: Jaws

_A/N: Thanks for the lovely reviews! CITigerfan, you may be in luck. I actually have another Aliens idea floating around in my brain, and your review might just kick it up onto the must-do list. :-) Anyway, today's installment is brought to you by insomnia and my love for Digg._

_Disclaimer: I'd have a better chance making money selling a chance at a hug with Patrick the wombat than I would making money writing this stuff. I do it for the love of reviews. Hint, hint._

* * *

"I just want to state, for the record," Felicity whispered, "that none of this is my fault."

"I'll take that under advisement," Digg said.

"I mean it. It is not my fault that the transmitter failed," Felicity said, fussing with the wiring of the small transmitter she'd had Roy place in Curtis's yacht before he left to follow a lead on Thea. "It is not my fault that Roy is in Sri Lanka. Sri Lanka! I mean, why don't bad guys set up their super-secret training facilities in Russell, Kansas?"

"Bad wi-fi," Digg said dryly.

"It is also not my fault that Laurel and Oliver got roped into doing that benefit tonight," Felicity continued. "That was entirely Walter's fault, and I am seriously considering doing something vile to his tea, because even if it is only a date for hire, given Oliver's track record with dates, this ends one of two ways: with him having hot, sweaty sex, or with him getting violently attacked. And I am not comfortable with either of those scenarios."

"Felicity—" Digg said.

"So let me be clear. It is not my fault that you had to be here instead of cuddling with that adorable creature—and by adorable creature, I mean your child, not your wife, because me commenting on your wife would be weird, and—"

"It is not your fault," Digg acknowledged. "Now can we please finish so I can go home and cuddle with both of them?"

"Almost there," Felicity said. "Stay on target...stay on target..."

"What the—?" Digg said as the yacht suddenly lurched under his feet. He whirled, running for the stairs up out of the hold.

"That isn't my fault either," Felicity said, closing the case on the transmitter. "Though maybe the Star Wars quote was tempting fate."

"Come on," Digg said. "We can still—" He stopped at the foot of the stairs, hearing footsteps on the deck above. He turned, putting his finger to his lips.

Felicity froze, then carefully tucked her tool kit into her purse.

Digg looked around wildly, then pointed at the back corner of the hold. "Hide," he breathed.

Felicity darted back into the corner, and Digg followed, smashing her into the wall of the hold painfully. Felicity held her breath for a long moment, hoping he'd get off soon, because she really wasn't sure she'd be able to get a breath with him crushing her into the wall like that. She could feel the sway of the yacht cruising through the harbor, and then felt it bank slightly. _We're going out to sea_, she thought, her stomach sinking. And then rolling, in a dangerous counterpoint to the roll of the boat. _Uh-oh._

There was a strange sound overhead, and then the faint sound of an outboard motor, which immediately got fainter.

Digg leaned back, and Felicity took a wheezing breath.

"Digg?" she said as he crept toward the stairs.

"Wait here," he whispered.

"No, Digg, we have a problem," Felicity said.

He paused, glancing back at her, frowning. "You mean, other than the fact that we're headed out to sea, and we have no idea who's driving this boat?"

"I get seasick," Felicity said.

Digg's face went through a series of expressions before finally settling on mildly annoyed. "Wait here," he repeated, and headed up the stairs.

Felicity could feel the queasiness building as she waited, and her nerves weren't helping. _I should be up there, watching his back_, she thought, and immediately felt stupid. She grabbed her phone out of her purse and hit speed dial.

"Felicity?" Oliver said. "What's wrong?"

"We're on the boat," she said in a rush. "But someone came on board, and now we're out on the ocean somewhere, and Digg went up to see what was going on, and I'm getting seasick. Seriously seasick."

"That's a lot wrong," Oliver said.

"Yes, yes, it is," Felicity said. "I'd very much like for you to help fix some of it."

"I'm on it," he said. "Don't lose the phone, okay?"

"Okay," Felicity said. "What about Digg?"

"Did he tell you to stay put?" Oliver said, and he sounded breathless.

"Well, not exactly," Felicity said, creeping toward the stairs.

"Let me rephrase that," Oliver said patiently. "Did he tell you to wait where you are?"

Felicity sighed. "Yes, but he's been gone a really long time."

"How long? Since I've been on the phone with you?"

"A little longer than that," Felicity said, starting to tiptoe up the stairs.

"Let's just wait a little longer," Oliver said.

"But he could be unconscious," Felicity whispered. "He has a little boy, Oliver! I can't just leave him up there at the mercy of the supervillain of the week!" She poked her head out of the hold. There was no one in sight, and Starling City was starting to look awfully small in the distance.

"Felicity, stay where he told you," Oliver said, and she could hear his teeth grinding. "Look, I've got a location, at least an approximate one. I'll be down at the docks in ten minutes. And remind me to thank you properly for installing the tracking app on our phones."

"I will," Felicity whispered, edging toward the railing and peeking down the side of the yacht. There was still no one in sight, and Felicity was deeply grateful for that when she felt the ominous rush of saliva in her mouth. She made it to the side, but just barely.

"Felicity?" Oliver said.

"Seasick," she managed to say.

"Come on!" Digg said, suddenly appearing next to her. He grabbed her and dragged her towards the back of the boat.

"What? Why? Digg?" Felicity said, and he wasn't slowing down as the got to the back of the boat. "Digg, what are you doing!? Digg, my phone isn't waterpr—!" she managed to squeak as he picked her up and flung the both of them off the boat.

Felicity braced for the shock of the water, but even before that happened, there was a roar, and Digg's body hit hers with unexpected force, nearly knocking the wind out of her. Then they hit the water, and the next several seconds she spent trying to find the surface.

Her head broke through, and she took a ragged breath, and then realized that she had no idea where Digg was. "Digg!" she gasped. "Digg!" She looked around frantically, and saw a dark form a few yards away.

An unmoving form.

She swam for it, and was horrified to find he was face-down. She struggled to turn him, and went under for an instant. She managed to get back above water, and then got behind Digg, wrapping one arm around him, using the other to tread water. She looked around, trying to figure out where the boat was, hoping it was close enough she could swim for it, but she couldn't see it anywhere. Just a lot of...

_Oh, god_, she thought, looking at the bits of debris floating around her. "It blew up," she said out loud. "Oh, god, I'm in the middle of the ocean. And the boat blew up." She reached up and felt Digg's head. "Digg? Please wake up. Tell me you're not bleeding. I really don't think I can handle being in the middle of the ocean with you bleeding."

He didn't respond.

"Digg, I mean it," she said. "If this is you getting back at me for how badly this night has gone, I'm really, really sorry. It is my fault. I'll make it up to you. Just wake up and tell me you're not bleeding."

Still nothing.

Felicity grimaced. "It's okay. Oliver's on his way. He knows where we are because. . ." She squeezed her eyes shut, silently spewing every curse word she could think of and inventing a few more for good measure. "I lost the phone. He told me specifically not to lose the phone, but I lost it anyway. And I still have a year left on the contract!"

She imagined it floating down to the bottom of the ocean, which unfortunately led her to consider what else might be floating around in the ocean, and for the next ten minutes, every possible horrible scenario flashed through Felicity's head, leaving her shaking. "Okay," she said finally, trying to stop her whirling thoughts. "Okay, you're on your own here. So. . .focus on the good stuff. You're not dead. You're just in the middle of the ocean, with an unconscious man who is definitely, definitely not bleeding, because if he was bleeding, then every shark in a quarter of a mile will come looking for a buffet, and that is definitely, definitely not happening—"

"Who's bleeding?" Digg muttered.

"Not you," Felicity said, and almost went under again, she was so relieved. "Are you okay?"

"Been better," he said, and between that and the fact that he hadn't tried to take over swimming for himself told her he was far from okay. "You?"

"Oh, I'm just peachy," Felicity said. "We're in the ocean, Digg, an ocean that, I'll remind you, I just puked into, which is incredibly gross, but I'm finding that a remarkably good distraction from the fact that we're in the middle of an ocean that also has sharks in it."

"Are you worried they'll be pissed about the puke?" Digg said.

"Yes," Felicity said tersely. "Among many other things."

"But other than that, you're okay?"

"Yes," she said, smiling. "I'm okay. Thanks to you. What happened?"

"Curtis was in the wheelhouse, dead," Digg said. "Then I noticed the big red numbers counting down from 10 on a chunk of C4, so I ran."

"And I am very, very glad I was not following instructions and still hanging around in the hold," Felicity said.

"So am I," Digg said. "But don't think for a minute that this gets you off the hook for obeying orders in the future."

"Sir, yes, sir," Felicity said. "Assuming, of course, there is a future that does not involve being eaten by puke-hating sharks."

"I'm a little more concerned about drowning or dying of exposure," Digg said.

"Well, aren't you Little Mary Sunshine," Felicity said, and tried to put as much confidence in her tone as she could. "Relax. Oliver's on his way."

"You called him?"

"Of course I called him," she said. "We were sailing out into the ocean, and you'd been gone for a really long time."

"Less than two minutes is not a long time, Felicity," Digg said.

"It is in Felicity-land, mister," she said. "Anyway, he had a location on us right before all hell broke loose and—" She gave a shriek.

"Ow! Relax! That was me," Digg said. "Sorry, I just thought I ought to do my part on the treading water thing. Damn, girl! You're loud."

"Hey, I think a little screaming is justified," Felicity said. "This is way too much like that opening scene in Jaws."

"You're scared of sharks because of Jaws," Digg said. "I should have known."

"No, I'm not scared of them because of Jaws," Felicity said, annoyed. "It is a perfectly rational fear. People do get eaten by sharks."

"People also get trampled to death by cows," Digg said. "I don't see you freaking out when you see the Chick-fil-a truck."

"I can dodge a cow," Felicity said. "I'm very agile. But in the ocean, I'm pretty much useless. I'm not even a very good swimmer."

"I don't know about that," Digg said. "You're doing a great job keeping me afloat right now."

"Thanks," Felicity said. "But even being a good swimmer didn't help that girl in Jaws all that much. At least I'm wearing clothes though."

Digg blinked. "Clothes?"

"The girl, in Jaws? Skinny dipping, remember?"

"You know that movie pretty well for being scared of sharks," Digg said.

"I know," Felicity said, chagrined. "It's a morbid obsession. It comes on late night TV, and I can't not watch it. Richard Dreyfus is kinda cute with the beard, though Roy Scheider looked a lot better as Bob Fosse. Anyway, I always thought if I was going to be eaten by a shark, it'd be better not to do it naked, but I'm not sure a dress is much better."

"Now you're worried about the sharks looking up your skirt?" Digg said.

She swatted him. "No, I was thinking one of those chain mail shark suits would be more fashionable right now."

"I told you you should have changed clothes," Digg said. "We had time. And knowing how long it takes you to decide what to wear, we might have missed this whole thing."

"Hey!" Felicity said. "You think it's so easy to figure out what to wear? All you have to do is pick a suit—gray? blue? black? Wow, so many options! However would you choose? Besides, you think I'm bad? Have you ever seen Oliver try to pick out a tie?"

"Actually, no," Digg said mildly. "You have?"

"Well. . .yes," Felicity said, and Digg could feel a faint increase in the warmth of her cheek against his neck. Digg fought back a smile. "He's completely hopeless. He has no color sense at all. It's a miracle he isn't the orange paisley vigilante."

"I think he'd have avoided orange," Digg said. "It's a little eye-catching. I should know—you wear it a lot."

"Yes, because I am petite and adorable," Felicity said primly, "and yes, orange gets me noticed when I want to be noticed. But on a guy, especially a guy with big muscley bits, it takes you a little too close to pumpkin-like."

"Damn. Now I'm going to have to get rid of those orange parachute pants I was going to give Oliver for Christmas," Digg said.

Felicity snorted. "Don't you think for one moment I don't know exactly what you're doing, John Diggle," she said, her voice suddenly gentle. "And I'm very grateful."

"My momma always said I should have learned to tap dance," Digg said, chuckling.

"If we get out of this, I'll take little Andy to dancing class myself," Felicity said.

"We'll get out of this," Digg said. "Though I am a little worried about what happens when we do."

"What do you mean?" Felicity said, shivering slightly as the cold of the ocean started to overcome her adrenaline rush.

"Oliver," Digg said, as if that explained everything.

And it did. "I won't let him take you out of the field, Digg," Felicity said. "We put up a united front, okay? He can't say no to both of us."

"You mean he can't say no to you," Digg said.

Felicity didn't say anything.

"Damn," Digg said. "I'm sorry, Felicity. I didn't mean to—"

"It's okay," she said.

"No, it isn't," Digg said, and there was a hard edge to his tone. "The way he treats you is bad enough. You don't need me piling on, too."

"He doesn't treat me badly, Digg," Felicity said.

Digg snorted. "Yeah, right. Parading Isabel Rochev in front of you in Russia was a really sweet gesture."

"What?" Felicity said. "What do you—?"

"Come on, Felicity," Digg said. "You were different on the way home. You barely said two words to anybody, and you wouldn't even look at Isabel." He didn't mention that when Felicity looked at Oliver, the hurt in her eyes had been palpable. "So I hacked into the hotel surveillance video."

"You did?" Felicity squeaked.

"I learned from the best," Digg said. He pulled out of Felicity's grasp and turned to face her. "Have I mentioned how glad I am you hit her with that van?"

Felicity smiled a little in the moonlight. "I have to admit, it felt kind of good," she said. "At least, once I knew I hadn't killed her. Though the feeling good got kind of swallowed up in the being freaked out when she got up."

"Yeah," Digg said. "It freaked me out, too. Along with a lot of other things that happened that night."

Felicity got a wary look. "Digg, I've already had this conversation with Laurel, and I'm really not up for having it again with you in the middle of the ocean when I am still panicking about sharks in spite of your best efforts to distract me, so can we please talk about something else?"

Digg sighed, frustrated. "Fine. What should we talk about?"

"Wombats," Felicity said.

Digg laughed. "Wombats?"

"Well, they really have nothing at all in common with the ocean, and they're really adorable, unlike. . .those things that live in the ocean about which I am not speaking right now, so I thought they'd be a safe subject," Felicity said. "There's one named Patrick who's actually a couple of years older than me."

"There's a wombat named Patrick—" Digg began, and then stopped. "Do you hear something?"

"If by something you mean the sweet, sweet sound of a boat engine," Felicity said, grinning, "the answer is an enthusiastic yes!"

"Hey!" Digg shouted, waving his hands as a light played over the water near them. "Over here!"

"Digg?" Oliver called. "Felicity?"

"Here!" Felicity called, and the boat came closer. Within seconds, Oliver was pulling her aboard, and Digg right after her.

"Are you all right?" he asked, helping Digg over to a seat.

"I'm fine, man," Digg said.

"We both are," Felicity said. "And before you say anything else, I just want to state, for the record, that none of this was Digg's fault."


End file.
